A HARE DRIVE 15 



far behind. First into a big wood, where 

 gradually the going became steep and white. 

 Every step was into eight or nine inches of 

 snow. The spruce boughs were laden, the 

 stillness of the white mantle was unbroken, 

 save by an occasional flap overhead of a caper- 

 cailzie, or the scuttle of a rabbit in the under- 

 growth. It was a great Christmas-tree land. 

 Not even the whisper of a far-off wind 

 through the firs' snow- weighted branches. 



By the time the little army reached the top, 

 out into the open, the balance of the day had 

 swung to the wrong side of its early morning 

 promise. Not rain, but quiet enfolding mist. 

 A grey cloak spread far and wide, veiling dis- 

 tance to little over a hundred yards. 



Here the order was given to walk in line. 

 My Lord took the fence side on the left, My 

 Lady the right, myself in the centre. 



The mist gave a dreamlike sense. So 

 soft, so veiled, impenetrable, mysterious. It 

 touched the whiteness of the snow with its 

 grey hand. Dispelling time and space, it hid 

 the beauties of distant hills and near moor- 



